The Hoodie's Always Greener on the Other Side
by MariBlu
Summary: Metatron has some taxing encounters with mortals, and to make things all the better Azrael's back in the loop. Lucifer? Not happy. Chapter 5 posted! R&Rs would be greatly appreciated.
1. Water

Disclaimer: I don't own _Dogma_ or anyone or anything affiliated with it, and have no intent of ripping off Kevin Smith's ideas for some kind of monetary gain. And that's that.  
  
Hope ya like it! R&R please.  
  
Chapter 1: Water  
Why She had to stick him with these menial tasks, Metatron couldn't answer. But here he was, in a smallish bedroom, contemplating whether to even wake the being before him.  
  
He cleared his throat, though it made no difference, and began.  
  
Behold the Metatron, Herald of the Almighty, and Voice of the one true God. He was about to continue, but the figure in the bed caught his attention. She looked to have gone rigid. He hesitated, and the girl sat up; her eyes widened as they looked him up and down, but she said nothing. Metatron smiled in what he hoped a non-threatening manner, and slowly began to regret speaking at all. ... Hullo. Still nothing. It was a simple enough job, just play guardian angel for a while, but he had gone and woken her.  
  
Regaining his composure, he decided to go on, I am the Metatron, Herald of the Almighty, and Voice of the one true God, Chancellor of Heaven, and on, Lesser Yahweh, he was enjoying the new freedom of getting to go on this long, one who sits by the throne of God-  
  
The people in my dreams don't usually ramble on this much. The girl seemed to have surprised even herself with such a bold statement.  
  
Meanwhile, Metatron's boastful rant had been shattered. His expression turned to a tetchy sneer. I am _not_ a dream.  
  
No... I'm beginning to think you aren't. This is weird.  
  
Metatron rolled his eyes. Admittedly, it _was_ weird.  
  
As I was saying- he tried to go on as regally as possible,-I am the Metatron, Herald of the Almighty-well, you know. Any questions?  
  
She looked incredulous at the mere suggestion. You're also a stranger who happens to be in my bedroom late at night, she said sharply.  
  
That was the usual lack faith setting in. He decided it best to reveal the wings, even though the massive things all but threw out his back the last time he brought them out. Light as a feather' they were not, weighing over half as much as the angel himself. Although, the girl seemed to relax a bit at seeing them. Plus, he liked what they did for his overall appearance.  
  
You could've done that a while back, you know, especially with the void of the fiery entrance. Ooh, she happened to remember something about this particular being. Someone ought to give the lass a theology degree.  
  
I'll admit, it is nice to have a token entrance, but I do go for a little subtlety once in a while. He put his hand on his hip. This statement happened to be in direct conflict with the seraph's choice of flashy Italian suit and jet-black hair, but for the most part that was overlooked.  
  
You do seem a bit hip for an angel.  
  
Yeah, well you try the clerical robes and sashes sometime. I happen to have a slightly different view on fashion.  
  
The girl brought her knees up closer to her and continued, Well it isn't every night that I get awoken by the appearance of a celestial being. Which brings me to: What are you doing here in my room at this hour?  
  
Mercury, is it? The girl nodded with a curious expression. Well it's not just Saint Nick who knows everyone's names now is it? You see, child, I'm sort of, er... filling in... for whoever it is that gets this lovely little job every other night.  
  
Isn't that a little... beneath you, then? It wasn't meant to be, but the statement was quite bothersome.  
  
he kept calm nonetheless, I suppose it is. At least _someone_ else agrees with me. The idea that he would be doing the work of a lesser choir wasn't dear to him, so he distracted himself with another thought. I figured I may as well let you know I was here. He trailed off slightly and looked around the room. It always felt odd just watching people. He was just beginning to admire the room's dark-raspberry trim color when he turned back to the girl. She looked about to speak-or something far worse-  
  
She began to yell out, but Metatron snapped his fingers swiftly.  
  
Sweet Jesus, wake the whole block why don't you?!  
  
He saw that she was sufficiently quieted and snapped again. Metatron was almost to the end of his fuse, which hadn't been the longest fuse to begin with.  
  
the girl apologized reluctantly. But you should understand it would be even a little naive of me if didn't _once_ try to call for anyone. Especially seeing as I was still half asleep for a while there, and this isn't the most normal occurrence. Metatron gave a small smile at the thought. Him, a mere hallucination? Not bloody likely. I must say, you're quite convincing, and I'm not all that cynical. Sooo....  
  
He moved toward the side of the bed and leaned against the edge. Is it safe to say you're convinced then?  
  
Yes, I believe it is. There was a moment of silence as he effortlessly concealed his wings again, until she said, Nice meeting you then.   
  
Little as he liked having to converse with these beings at times, Metatron had rarely been in a situation where a mortal had reasonably peacefully conceded to his materiality. The whole thing would be made rather pointless if he left now. What, that's it? You don't have any more questions, anything else to say now, while an angel sits before you?   
  
... I'm pretty sure I've covered everything. Eh? She looked at him quizzically. Besides you seemed pretty quick to quiet me down a minute ago.  
  
He folded his arms across his chest. Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed. Everyone's always so eager to drill me for answers, I suppose I've begun to expect it. I should probably find this a nice change.  
  
Umm.... While you're here d'you mind getting me some water? Some nerve she had after all.  
  
His brow raised slowly. Water, eh? Coming up. And with that and a snap of his fingers...  
  
They were standing outside on one of the city's streets under an awning, the rain falling gently in front of them. Mercury looked up at him.  
  
Quite the literal angel, aren't we?  
  
  
  
A/N: R&R please. More to come.


	2. A Decent Employee

Disclaimer: Azrael, his hat, and anything else Kevin Smith belongs to him, not me. The devil, however, is my own work. He he. Enjoy, and please R&R.  
  
Chapter 2: A Employee  
  
Azrael groaned after he hit the floor with a thud. He was on his hands and knees, feeling as though he had been kicked in the stomach. It was so dark the demon counldn't have seen his own hand in front of him. But something partially white stood out. He grimaced as he pulled himself up, then recognized his hat.  
  
he managed to exclaim irately, picking up his stained, trampled-upon hat. He tried to peer around, looking for any signs of someone else, but it was useless. He'd never been in this part of the underworld before, and something icy in the air was beginning to nip at him. Not at all like the comforts of central air.  
  
He crouched slightly as if in defense against the rustling sound he heard. A hissing voice spoke from the darkness....  
  
_Ssooo_.... You've got a caller....  
  
Azrael regained enough of his wits to retort, Well isn't that friggin' dandy-  
  
Silence! Have you absolutely no manners when it comes to your superiors?  
  
The demon stood befuddled for a moment, until a figure emerged to accompany the voice, which had become quite less hissy, more prissy.  
  
The scene became clearer. A soft ember-like glow gave light, emanating from the tall blond before him.  
  
For Satan's-well, my sake- _do not_ call me that mindless nickname'. Now, this could take a bit, have a seat, and the devil pushed Azrael to the floor with two fingers, sitting down himself on what appeared to be a ledge of thin air. The demon grimaced and made a mocking face, but stopped short with a glare from Lucifer. Either Azrael's eyes were adjusting, or the room lit up, because he could now see the desk Lucifer was on, upon which he tossed the stack of paperwork he'd been holding.  
  
Where are we? And what are _those_? he asked with a hint of suspicion.  
  
Oh, these? the devil pointed to the papers. Just a few mortals' tax returns. Either they or the IRS are definately going to want these back in a couple of weeks, he said, fondly flipping through them. And we're in my office of course. Somebody wants to see you. He nodded purposefully toward the ceiling.  
  
Is that some sort of twitch you've acquired, or am I supposed to be picking up on something here? Azrael's gaze slowly made its way upward as well. Realization spread over his face. Lucifer rolled his eyes.  
  
Yes, that's right, give yourself a moment.  
  
What does She want with me?  
  
Satan seemed to become distracted by another thought. He looked puzzled, but oddly amused.  
  
Hey, if we're in your office, how come I didn't get a chair? the demon asked, looking around, oblivious to Lucifer's unspoken insult. He looked Azrael over, sitting there half-sprawled, holding himself up with one hand, crumpled hat in the other. Not the most competent looking.  
  
He, she, it, whatever-no, She couldn't actually want you _back_. He laughed mockingly and ruffled Azrael's hair, but soon found this a mistake, as it took quite a bit of gel to get hair that foppish. He wiped his hand on his suit. Then he set down the papers, pulled Azrael up by the back of his jacket, and put an arm around him. Listen, I've always been a decent boss, haven't I? he asked in a smarmy tone.  
  
Azrael held his hat tightly to himself, truly questioning whether he had a future at all. Yes.... I guess so, he replied cautiously.  
  
Good. Then I can count on you to be a _decent employee_. Much to Azrael's relief, he let go. Just don't royally screw this up. Lucifer went over to his desk. Be a good little demon, and maybe you'll get a cookie when you come back.  
  
Just what I've always wanted, Azrael said testily, smoothing out his hat and cramming it back on.  
  
Yes, yes, whatever's in the contract. He paused a moment. Provided nothing should become null and void as a result of your or a third party's actions. It's a small legal technicality. But that shouldn't be a problem. Off you go.  
  
  
  
Before Azrael could figure out exactly what this obscure statement meant or finish his own, he gained a feeling like a blow to the head and then a swooping sensation as the darkness around him whirlpooled.  


* * * *  


When the demon opened his eyes again, he was in a considerably bright place.  
  
Never a happy medium, is there? he complained, squinting. The brilliant blue sky shone all around him. Azrael sensed someone else was there. Then a happy feeling overtook him, and he could have kicked himself because he swore he started to smile. Too bad he fainted first.  
  
  
A/N: Props to those who recognize where I got the idea for Lucifer. He might be kinda familiar. R&R if ya'd like.  
  



	3. Wet and Fishy

Disclaimer: The character Metatron does not belong to me, and I refuse to make a bad joke stating I wish it were otherwise. Other character, however, mine.  
  
chapter 3: Wet and   
  
Might be a smart idea to duck into that coffee shop if you're against becoming a human popsicle or anythin', Metatron mused offhandedly. He was leaning against a lamp post, straightening the cuffs of his velvet hoodie. It was a (to say the least) four in the morning, and still dark. Mercury looked at him with a mingled expression. Her eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, head tilted in thought, clearly pondering the angel.  
  
In case you haven't noticed, I _am_ still in pajamas, she said gesturing towards the pinkish outfit.  
  
Are you? he asked, not looking up from examining his nails. She looked back down at her clothing as if to make a point, but saw herself in familiar jeans and jacket.  
  
Some trick, she said, now smiling and looking over the handiwork with awe as she walked further under cover of the building. Metatron followed behind her and took a seat at one of the small outdoor tables.  
  
Glad to see you've come around, he said plainly.  
  
Sorry if I was a bit snotty earlier, she said apologetically and sat down next to him.  
  
He gave a kind smile. Don't worry yourself, child, I've met a lot worse then you.  
  
Such as? Mercury asked curiously.  
  
He hesitated. Not that I'm much for selling the personas of holy figures short, but would you believe, I did the whole fiery entrance thing, and someone had the nerve to use a fire extinguisher on me? He leaned in closer. The last scion, no less.  
  
What, the last relative of Christ-?  
  
Yes, Christ. The last remaining descendant of Christ took a fire extinguisher to me-and a then-brand-new designer suit. He made a slight shuddering movement at the thought. Needless to say, I spent months and quite a bit of money trying to get this thing back to normal, he said, fingering the lapel of his maroon jacket.  
  
Of course, if that smarmy little twat Azrael hadn't decided it was his turn to try and end the world, none of that would've happened, he said resentfully. But that's a different story. He folded his arms.  
  
As if signaled by the mere mention of the name, a polished voice came from behind Metatron.  
  
You wouldn't happen to know where I could find forty-second street, would you?  
  
Seeing as we're on forty-fourth, I'd take a wild guess it's two blocks over, Metatron began as he turned. Upon seeing the man, he practically did a double take. Between forty-first and forty-third, he went on more flatly, Right where it's always been. Metatron eyed him narrowly.  
  
You're a great help, chap. Thanks, he finished with a last icy glare over his needless sunglasses. The off-putting smile he gave them didn't quite make it to his eyes. The strange man might as well have disappeared right into the surrounding fog, he was gone so quickly.  
  
What was that about? Mercury asked uncertainly.  
  
Honestly, I haven't the slightest clue, he answered, shifting his arms. But between you and me, little one, I'm beginning to think something fishy's going on. She looked concerned and intrigued all at the same time. Giving a last glance behind him, he said, Let's go for a walk, kiddo.  
  
So, you're concrete proof of Heaven and angels existing and all that, I guess, eh? Mercury asked as they made their way up the sidewalk.  
  
Yeah, but you already knew that didn't you?' he said matter-of-factly.  
  
Yeah, I did, she replied with a smart smile. She pulled her hood up over her head to shield herself from the light sprinkling, while Metatron remained inexorably dry. And what lives you lead, she was obviously referring to the recent episode.  
  
It's not all sugar and roses, that's for sure.  
  
Any big heavenly business in the near future? she asked casually.  
  
Funny you should mention that, as I'm to speak with the _next_ scion forthwith, Metatron replied with a hint of foreboding.  
  
Who's that?  
  
One Madeleine Sloane.  
  
Sloane? I know her, Mercury said with a surprised laugh.  
  
Do you? he asked, equaling her amazement.  
  
We go to school together, except she's a couple years older than I am. She thought for a moment. Not that she isn't nice or anything, but she doesn't really strike me as the Christ-descendant' type.  
  
Lucky me, Metatron said with a grimace. They had just turned into a suburban neighborhood when he stopped in front of a Spanish-style house. Your place, I believe? he asked as he checked his watch.  
  
How did you-? She looked around suspiciously. That was so fast....  
  
Record time, he stated proudly. Off you go. Must be way past your bedtime, he said mockingly.  
  
Ha ha, she said sarcastically as she started up the walkway.  
  
See you around, kiddo. When she was to the front door, he tossed her a small set of silvery wings, no larger than would have gone on a charm bracelet, which she caught deftly.  
  
was her final word as she disappeared behind the door.  
  
As he turned away, he noted a harmless looking squirrel skittering along some tree branches overhead. This would have been absolutely fine, too, had it not skittered along some branches that were particularly weighted with water, which rained down upon Metatron's shoulder such that no holy powers could have kept him dry.  
  
He silently resolved not to say anything, but merely shuddered and walked on.  
  
A/N: Sorry this has taken so long, but I'm kinda writing this by the seat of my pants. Heh. More chapters are definitely on the way, and thanks to the two of you who reviewed. Others are welcome to R&R, too.


	4. Back in Business

Disclaimer: Anything that's not mine is, well, not mine. Enjoy.  
  
chapter 4: Back in Business  
  
It was quite a picture, Azrael lying there, smiling ever so slightly, looking completely dopey. He opened his eyes.  
  
What he saw made him sit up so fast he almost fell off the side of the sofa he was on. His clothes were so bright they almost blended right into the glimmering white of the room surrounding him. He ran a hand along the sleeve of his crisp, new, white suit, a soft gray shirt underneath.  
  
He'd expected anything but this, to be scolded or reprimanded. Your work is suffering, or, you've been demoted, or-his heart leapt- you're being let go. He was still squinting from the light.  
  
he called, but no answer came. He put a hand to the back of his sore neck and felt a golden string around it. His brow raised. a small scroll hung from it. Azrael looked around once more as if expecting someone to walk in, but nobody came.  
  
Nothing to lose, he shrugged. He unrolled the paper, straining to read the tiny script.  
  
_Azrael,  
  
Congrats on making it this far. You have woken up all by yourself, but still have absolutely little or no clue as to where you are, or how you got here. . .   
  
_Well well, some nerve we've got, haven't we? Azrael thought aloud.  
  
_. . . So, here is my note to help you along. First thing, next to you, you will find a replacement fedora. Your old one was far too gone to be considered worthy of being celestial attire, so we threw it out. Hope it fits nicely. . .   
  
_Sure enough, on the end of the lounge was a spanky new white hat. Somehow it looked less grifter-like, though.  
  
_. . . Second, you will notice we gave you a haircut. . .   
  
_Azrael immediately put a hand to his head in horror. It was shorter, but on the up side it had a softer, tousled feel to it. Not bad at all. He rolled the scroll out a bit more.  
  
_. . . so, you will further notice, you no longer look like a cheap car salesman. As I'm quite sure you've been interrupting this letter with your own amusing thoughts along the way, I'm going to ask now that you pay close attention. You are to leave this room, where you should find yourself somewhere remotely familiar. Take a moment to settle in if you need, but above all be careful of your actions. We are watching. You are quite frankly, in a way, being tested in both character and soul. I wish you the best of luck.  
  
_It was signed simply with a small drawing of a daisy and a star. His scrutinizing expression suddenly turned to astonishment. He knew who the note was from, at least vaguely, but somehow couldn't bring himself to fully realize what it meant. Azrael slipped the scroll inside his shirt, picked up the hat, hopped off of the sofa, and began walking toward what he thought might be one of the room's walls. It was a minor setback that he couldn't actually _find_ a door.  
  
They never make this easy, do they? he said aggravatedly. After walking around dumbly with outstretched hands for a good three minutes, he surly felt a door edge. As he went to put on the hat, however, he noticed a crucial piece of the puzzle.  
  
His horns were gone. Had he not clapped a hand over his mouth he would have yelled out, in joy or otherwise. With fresh determination, he jammed the hat on and whipped the door open. He came out to a city street, the sky just turning blue. No one seemed to take much notice of the sudden appearance of a smiley white-clad guy, and when Azrael turned around, the door he'd come out of looked like any other.  
  
On the one hand, it seemed he was no longer a demon, which meant no more taking orders from Lucifer, and no more uber-Arizona temperatures. Trouble was, he still wasn't quite sure on what that left him as nor what he was supposed to do left in this city. A punky young man with black hair passed him. Put together with the earlier note, he was reminded of someone. He grimaced at the thought of what a reacquaintance would be like, but a good part of him was still a cynic in need of proof.  
  
He lifted the oversized collar of his knit shirt against a fresh breeze and took in a deep breath. Even the semi-polluted air of the city was an improvement over fire and brimstone. If anything was for sure, it was that a little more optimism was slowly leaking through.  
  
Aw man, have I _got_ to pick one o'those up, he said as a kid flew by on a skateboard. As he looked out towards the rising sun, he flashed a grin.  
  
Azrael, you are back in business.  
  
A/N: The Azrael chs. tend to take a little longer, but hopefully this was worth it. R&R please, and thanks for the reviews so far. :)


	5. Deja Vu

Disclaimer: Original Dogma, not mine. Metatron, not mine. New character, mine.  
  
Thanks very much to those of you who've read and reviewed! Updates may be slow coming in the next few months, so here it is while I've got some spare time. I think this is my sharpest chapter so far, but I'll let you guys decide.  
  
chapter 5: Déja Vu  
  
Behold the Metatron. Herald of the Almighty, Voice of the One True God, the seraph began, as he had so many times before. As he looked through his surrounding flames, hands casually in his pockets, he noticed with a small bit of surprise that there was no one there. He took a cautious step forward after extinguishing the blaze, and the lights came on. Metatron surveyed the room only to be caught off guard by a very startling:  
  
  
  
He nearly jumped backwards into a dresser at the sound from the twenty-something girl in pj's standing next to him.  
  
For Christ's sake, do you always make such a lovely first impression?! he asked tetchily.  
  
Like I haven't been expecting this, she said sharply, edging her way to her bed, never turning her back to him, as if he may attack at any moment.  
  
Well at least you were expecting company, He gave her nightclothes a derisive look and placed a hand on his hip.  
  
Oh, I know exactly who-what-you are. And I think you had better leave. She removed a (surprise!) baseball bat from behind her headboard. Metatron's smug smirk faltered a bit.  
  
Real original. What is this? A hereditary condition with you people or something?!, he threw his hands up in exasperation. I suppose this is the part where I say Or what, you're gonna hit me with that _f-f-f-fish_?'  
  
The girl's eyes widened for a split second at the salmon now in her hands, but she just as quickly dropped it and replaced it with a fresh bat and a self-pleased expression. Now it was his turn to stare wide-eyed.  
  
Look, you can either put down your silly little stick, sit down, and listen quietly, or we can continue this mad charade a bit further, and maybe by the end of it, I'll get bored anyway and leave you to your batting practice.  
  
She looked puzzled at him and let the bat go slack a little. To the angels' surprise, she seemed to thoroughly contemplate this for a moment. Unfortunately for Metatron, she came to the same old conclusion.  
  
I don't think so.  
  
Next thing he was actually being chased, chased!, through the bedroom door to a hallway, found himself _scrambling_ down a stairway, and slamming short-breathed into a counter separating the dining room and kitchen. He wasn't even quite sure she still had the bat. Like she needed it.  
  
God I need a holiday, Metatron breathed exasperatedly. But there was no time for day-dreaming; the girl had followed him and though she had abandoned her bat, she seemed just as intent that he leave her be.  
  
Now leaned up against the counter's support beam almost defensively, he gave it a last shot, Haven't you people ever heard the phrase don't shoot the messenger'? For goodness' sake, you won't listen to one word I have to say?I think I've learned quite enough in my lifetime to know what strangers who show up all of a sudden in my bedroom mean. She scoffed. Holy messengers, wacked-out apostles and prophets. No. I don't want anything to do with it, thank you very much. The girl took a slightly more defensive stance. You've probably even got wings or something, right? she asked, almost as if the mere suggestion made him a lesser, unworthy life form.  
  
Metatron gave a long sigh. That would be part of the job description given _I'm an angel_. He shut his eyes for a second and then looked back at the girl. So you've heard one too many stories from your mother, and maybe you got a bit disillusioned, he reasoned with her, but just because of that you're going to completely discredit everything I've got to say?  
  
She took a few slow steps forward, looking thoroughly annoyed with him now. He raised a wary eyebrow.  
  
I think I'll do just fine without having to worry about dumb, half-baked crusades to- she sputtered rather dumbly for a moment in thought of the right word, _Cleveland_, or whatever!I'll have you know it was a perfectly well thought out trip to New Jersey! Metatron stated irately, immediately realizing the irony of his own statement.  
  
The girl gave her ultimatum.  
  
And so, she had somehow managed to give the, albeit thin, six-foot-and-change seraph a last out the front door, where he subsequently overbalanced and tripped onto the sidewalk. He pulled himself back up and began looking over the damage to his suit. As Metatron dusted himself off, he tried to look on the bright side: At least the pavement had been dry.  
  
Only, when he thought he couldn't think of anything that could possibly kick this night just another notch downward, it turned out there was something. Someone.  
  
Well, look who it is! came the dapper and alarmingly cheery voice of none other than Azrael.  
  
The night had just gotten worse.


End file.
